Cracked
by ThnksFrThMmrs87
Summary: His heart was cracked,and more than anything she wished she knew what to do.
1. Cracks

Note From The Author-- This is a little drabble that occured to me while sitting at work avoiding my homework. It's really short but I love it and I hope you will too. I suppose its a return to my original NCIS stuff. Enjoy

Disclaimer-- I don't own the characters of NCIS. If I did Tony and Ziva would be together by now

She knew his heart was cracked. Jeanne had done that to him, and for that she hated the woman even more.

She had seen the pain in his eyes as clear as day when she'd walked by, and it tore her apart. Tony may have been a lot of things, but he wasn't a murderer. That Jeanne had attempted to stain him with that title made her blood boil.

Even so, her rage was overtaken by concern. She could see him struggling to keep control, fighting the breakdown; and when he lied right to Jeanne's face, when he told her that none of it had meant anything, she wanted to weep for him.

The agony of what he'd had to do showed through every inch of his being and for a moment she wondered if he'd be able to stay on his feet. But then he straightened up and he walked past her, trying to shake it off.

She watched him go with her heart aching. His heart was cracked, and she wished to God that she knew how to fix it for him.


	2. Healing

Note From The Author—Okay, so I couldn't help myself and I had to continue this. I just can't seem to get the idea of Ziva comforting Tony out of my head. This is the result of that predicament. I hope you enjoy.

For a moment Ziva stood as if rooted to the floor. She wanted nothing more than to go after him, to try and make it better some how, yet she wasn't sure how. She wasn't a comforter by nature, so why was it that all she wanted to do with Tony was try to make the hurt go away?

In the end, she knew she had to try. She finally willed herself to move, and she set off after him. He wasn't easy to find. She checked the bullpen, the bathroom, even Abby's lab, and couldn't find any trace of him. As a last resort, she checked the interrogation rooms.

It was there that she found him, and she realized that the room he was looking out on was the room where they'd held Jeanne. It was in that room that she'd lied to the director's face before finally admitting the truth. It was there that she'd unknowingly and unfeelingly ripped his heart to pieces.

He turned when she closed the door. She looked him over and felt a stab of raw pain when she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. He shook his head and turned back to the glass as she stepped further in. Ziva was ready to call his name, but thought better of it. Instead, she walked forward and reached up to rest her hand on his shoulder.

At the contact, she felt a shuddering breath flow through him. His shoulders heaved momentarily as he struggled to rein everything in. Then without a word he spun around and suddenly he was clinging to her like a life line. Stunned, she held him to her as he fisted his hands in the material of the shirt at her back. She knew that neither of them would speak of this again, but it didn't matter. As she felt his tears fall wet against her neck all that mattered was that maybe, just maybe she could help make things better. Maybe, with her help, he could begin to heal the cracks.


	3. More

Note From The Author—Okay so I couldn't seem to help writing one final chapter for this story. I was considering making it even longer but I feel very strongly that bringing dialogue into it at this point would completely disrupt the continuity of the story and I take away some of the emotional impact. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

At home later that night Tony couldn't seem to stop playing over the day's events. It was like some macabre film reel in his head, and all he could see was the hatred in Jeanne's eyes; all he could hear was the venom in her voice when she'd quietly uttered the words that had dealt the final blow to his tattered heart.

But then his thoughts turned to Ziva, and how she had come looking for him. At the time he hadn't even known that he's wanted to be found, but when she had opened the door he somehow knew that it was right. Despite everything that had happened, and despite the fact that he'd believed he needed to be alone, her presence there was somehow a balm on the open wounds.

At first he thought her simply being there would be enough. He figured the silent support could help him carry through. But then that touch had lighted on his shoulder and suddenly it wasn't nearly enough. Almost before he had known it he had her in his arms and he was holding on to her for dear life. He couldn't hold back the tears, and he felt them fall salty wet against the soft skin of her neck.

They hadn't said a word to each other; it hardly seemed necessary. And when he had felt her own tears fall he took solace in the fact that he had someone there for him. He had someone who could understand, and she would let him grieve without asking anything of him.

So that night he thought of Ziva. That night he thought of the comfort that she'd given him. He wondered at the capacity for caring he had never imagined she possessed, and it occurred to him that maybe she could help him heal. Maybe, in time, she could be more.


End file.
